


Worth the Wait

by Emery



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Breeding, Chase and Pursuit, Commissioned Work, Dirty Talk, F/M, Knotting, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Pregnancy, Pregnancy Kink, takedown
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-18
Updated: 2017-08-18
Packaged: 2018-12-16 19:33:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11835558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emery/pseuds/Emery
Summary: He saw her from the corner of his eye, a quick flash of black and violet tumbling along the tops of the buildings and remaining hidden, save for the few seconds every now and again when his sharpened senses had the pleasure of glimpsing her.Widowmaker.Yes, she would be perfect. She would absolutely be one hell of a mate.Jack chased her.





	Worth the Wait

**Author's Note:**

> I'm very active on Twitter @onecalledemery, and if you want to see even more of my writing that's not posted on AO3, please visit my Tumblr (onecalledemery.tumblr.com)! 
> 
> For all you visual readers, it was requested that Jack be adorned with the Daredevil: 76 skin in this fic--feel free to imagine him this way.

This cycle was particularly bad. It wasn't like others hadn't been intense before, but what really got Jack this time was how suddenly it came on him. He was old enough now that he knew his body better than his guns—which was saying a lot. He knew when the ruts were coming, he knew how to deal with them, and he knew when he was strong enough to stay away from the suppressants that Overwatch had forced on him years ago. He wasn't a baby alpha anymore, someone who didn't know how to handle himself and had to take medicine to keep himself in check. That seemed juvenile, now, at the ripe age of fifty-six. A few years ago, he had begun refusing the prescription pills the organization's doctors had tried to force on him. It was for the sake of his performance, they had said, but Jack had only growled and insisted that he performed better without them, thank you very much.

Up until now, he had been correct. But today, it was all he could do to keep his suffering a secret from his teammates and from the higher-ups who always had their eyes peeled for any signs of low performance.

"Hey, sir, are you all right?"

Jack didn't know who was speaking to him, nor did he care. He felt his face flush, partially because he wanted to be left alone and was suddenly embarrassed by the attention from other alphas, but mostly because of the heat that had been progressively pooling in his groin and abdomen since two nights ago. The cycles of the moon and tide, in addition to the knowledge of his own functioning, had indicated to Jack that this rut would be particularly severe, but there was no way in hell that he could have predicted it to be this bad.

It wasn't surprising that this would happen, especially given that he was of such an age and had yet to produce any offspring. His body was making its final protests, and they were anything but subtle.

Jack growled indiscriminately at whoever had inquired about him. He read the fear in his comrades' eyes but couldn't bring himself to care. He had always been respected, and fear was a natural part of respect. He knew those looks, and he asserted the authority he had earned over the years to shoot his teammates a series of glances that told them to remain silent about anything else they might notice about him in the next several days. There were other alphas in the group. They would understand. The betas wouldn't have a clue, but they should at least be smart enough to back off. Thank _fuck_ there were no omegas within sight.

Luckily, Jack's intimidation tactics accomplished what he had hoped they would. A snarl every now and then, accompanied by a particularly harsh snap or demand, kept his subordinates quiet and his equals at least civil. Still, the day wore on to midafternoon by the time he was reaching the height of his rut, and Jack knew that something had to be done. There wasn't much use in hiding it anymore, so he wouldn't. Still, he wasn't the kind of man to display his primal desperation to his crew.

"I'm going out," he announced with a characteristic (but somehow more desperate) gruffness in his voice.

He didn't explain himself—not that there was any need to. By now, Jack did what he wanted, and he wasn't questioned. He accepted missions at his own discretion, patrolled when he felt that it was needed, apprehended and prosecuted whenever and whomever he damn well pleased. Sometimes, it was worth his time. Sometimes, it wasn't.

Today would be a different kind of patrol. His eyes were peeled less for criminals, troublemakers, and the like, and more so for a woman. It might have seemed ridiculous to him if he hadn't been so deep into his rut, but today, it was the best idea in the world. Too easily, he lost track of exactly how long he had been gone. He knew not the time nor when he had left, and he cared little for where he went or how long he was gone. All he wanted—no, _needed_ , he corrected himself through heavy breaths—was a suitable mate. With the same vigilance that he would employ to hunt down the sneakiest of criminals, Jack searched for what he needed.

Wide hips, large breasts, symmetry, strength, good posture, a woman of suitable reproductive age.

Sure, there were a lot of pretty girls on the streets, but he wasn't looking for someone who was just pretty. There was a very specific type of beauty that he needed today, and he damn well intended to find it. He could feel the heat building along the tips of his ears, rushing through the veins in his neck, and surfacing on his cheekbones. Even more noticeable was the tightness in his testicles and the way he could feel every single pump of blood through the shaft of his cock. The constant state of arousal wasn't annoying or embarrassing. It was, however, a stark reminder that he was running out of time to find what he needed, because damn, he was fifty-six years old and he had never bred a woman.

Jack pursed his lips. It was rare that he felt inadequate. He knew his own strength and basked in his masculinity. But this was an unacceptable failure which he would not allow to continue.

As suddenly and heatedly as his search for a mate had begun that afternoon, it ended.

He saw her from the corner of his eye, a quick flash of black and violet tumbling along the tops of the buildings and remaining hidden, save for the few seconds every now and again when his sharpened senses had the pleasure of glimpsing her.

_Widowmaker._

Yes, she would be perfect. She would absolutely be one hell of a mate.

Jack chased her.

He had seen the agent frequently enough to know her routes in this city. She had seen him, too, most likely. Jack was willing to admit that they knew much more about each other than either would ever let on. They were both good at their jobs, at observing and analyzing and storing information that would be useless to a civilian. He knew roughly where she would start and end her journey of scoping out the city for the best nooks and crannies to make her kills. Jack didn't even care that she was planning a hit today. All he cared about was getting close enough to fuck her.

Of course, he wasn't surprised that he estimated the timing and the location perfectly on his first try. Every single one of his senses was heightened tenfold this late in his cycle without his suppressants. If he hadn't been so fixated on breeding this damned gorgeous woman, he would have made a hell of an agent right now—not that he wasn't always a hell of an agent.

Her course came to an abrupt stop when he emerged onto the roof from a stairwell. Their eyes met, and so much was exchanged in only a glance. Jack knew immediately that something about her was off. Of course, he knew right away that she was in heat, but even an untrained eye would have noticed the thin sheen of sweat on her face, the flush in her otherwise icy cheeks, her pupils wide with need, and the flaring of her nostrils.

"I am not of your concern today, 76," she told him. While Jack could tell that she was trying to sound strong, her voice was weakened by the deep breaths she pulled through parted lips. "You do not bother me, and I will not bother you. Do we agree?"

Jack said nothing. He was too busy taking it all in, admittedly shocked that he had found such a perfect mate so early during his prowl. _Widowmaker._ He repeated the name in his head again and again, rolled it around and analyzed its every aspect. The idea was an odd one, but he couldn't believe that he hadn't thought of it before.

“ _Do we agree?_ ” Widowmaker repeated. She enunciated every syllable with a forcefulness that would have been threatening if Jack hadn't found it so incredibly enticing. He loved the way her accent curled around each of her words. He loved how she thought she could bargain with him, as if she was in charge. Yes, she would be perfect.

He remained silent, but he was no longer still. He placed one red and white boot in front of the other, and that was all it took for her to curl her lips and release the most feral hiss he had ever heard. _Fuck_ , it was sexy.

She turned effortlessly on her heels and leapt from the roof without a second's hesitation. Of course, Jack followed, but not without a roared command to “hold the fuck up, bitch!” There was no way that he was giving up on this now, and he let her know as much by releasing a growl from the depths of his throat that rumbled on the back of his tongue. He saw her ears twitch with the recognition, but she refused to slow her pace. It was a chore to keep up with her, even more difficult to gain on her. She knew the heights of the city better than Jack, and her lithe body cut easily through the air. She was light enough that there was hardly a transition from gliding through the air to running along the concrete rooftops. Jack, on the other hand, wasn't as accustomed to this type of chase, but his instincts and his desperation to fuck this woman until his seed was deep inside her propelled him forward.

Every now and then, she would turn her head, as if she was hoping that he had given up or that she could outrun him. Jack bit back a laugh and only returned her snarls with some growls and barked commands of his own.

“You know you can only run so long from an alpha, Widow! The longer you run, the longer it will be before I can make you my little come-slut.” He fully expected a threat like that to at least have her stumbling, enough for him to capture her, but she was more strong-willed than he had thought an omega could be while in heat.

He continued to call to her, demanded that she stop and submit to him—

“You’ll be on your knees one way or the other, omega!” But she would have none of it. It was fine, Jack thought. He didn't expect her to be an easy catch. It would all be worth it, and besides, wasn't this a part of the fun?

He decided to let himself enjoy the chase rather than grow frustrated by it. Every time she turned her body, his eyes drank in another angle of her. Every quality he had dreamed of in a woman was exemplified to the utmost perfection in Widowmaker. “How long before you slow down enough for me to get a handful of those delicious tits?” Her armored suit hugged hips wide and sturdy, cupped her rounded breasts—Jack could imagine so vividly the way she would feed their child.

That was what fueled him onwards. He wondered if he had ever run so quickly and with so much agility. He carried his broad, muscular body with impressive ease, the same ease with which she launched herself through the air, above and over obstacles that Jack was lucky to notice before it was too late. His newfound agility arose from a single cause. He _needed_ to be with her. He needed to push her down onto her hands and knees, to watch her in her heat while she spilled her juices for him, to grip handprints into her sides when she tried to squirm away from his knot. He needed her to be the mother of his child, and he'd be damned if he let this gorgeous, perfect mate away from him.

_“Amélie!_ " Jack practically roared her name. The call was feral enough and personal enough to pierce her to the core. She didn't stumble, but she slowed, and that was all Jack needed. He knew that she couldn't resist the dominant display of a capable alpha, not today. It had been clear from the moment he laid eyes on her that she was as helplessly wrapped up in her cycle as he was. They needed each other.

Jack could make this right. His way of telling her as much was, "Stop, you fucking beautiful slut!"

Each time he called out to her, no matter how crude or demeaning, he was able to edge closer to her. While Jack's breath was ragged and his eyes bulged with the crazed need to mate, he prided himself on the act of making sure that the slickest of Talon's assassins was slowly giving in to him. Jack could tell that she knew how this would end. She knew that she was an omega, and as capable and powerful as she might have been, _he_ was an _alpha_. It was her instinct to submit to him just as much as it was his instinct to pin her to the ground and breed her.

At last, Widowmaker slowed just enough, and Jack propelled himself forward with an extra boost of need. He leapt on her back and they fell to the ground with all the force of their momentum, nothing but concrete breaking their fall. Dust, dirt, and pebbles flew around them as they rolled together, Jack's arms still so tight around her that she couldn't struggle free even if they were to careen right off of the roof. Luckily, the lip at the roof's edge stopped them, and the chaos of their tumbling was punctuated with only silence and the pounding of Jack's heart in his ears.

She struggled, at first, but it was simple to tell that she wasn't _really_ trying. She was much better than this. Jack firmly believed that, had she truly wanted to get away, she would have already done so. This show she had put on, the chase, the way she drug her long fingernails down along his arms and gnashed her teeth at him—it was all a part of the thrill, part of the game. Whether or not she would admit it, this might as well have been foreplay, which made Jack want to state his intentions all the more clearly.

He rolled them so that he had good leverage on her, then drew his lips towards her ear. He knew what he wanted. Hell, he had known exactly what he wanted ever since he laid eyes on her.

"You're in heat," he said, then chuckled when her eyes widened. "Anyone could tell. You think you were hiding it?"

Amélie only pursed her lips and angled her gaze away from him. That particularly indicative dusky blush crowned pale cheeks.

He growled in her ear, low and pointed. "You're going to have my fucking child, Amélie. We're getting this done tonight. Do you understand?"

He felt her tightened muscles relax the slightest bit in his grip, and his approving hum was more of a purr.

"That's right," he said. "I'm _choosing_ you. You'll be my mate."

Jack held the back of her head in his large hand and turned her face towards him. He wanted to see the progression of emotions across her features the very moment that she realized she was to be his for as long as it took to bear and raise his offspring. Eyes that he had seen only cold and calculating softened. There it was. There was her submission. That very moment was exactly what he wanted, and it had his dick twitching in his pants. In a final display of acceptance, she dipped her head.

"Good fucking girl," he whispered. He didn't stop himself from sliding the tip of his tongue over her earlobe and catching the skin between his teeth for only a moment before standing and lifting her pliant body in his arms. This wasn't a romantic gesture, only efficiency—with ease, he tossed her over his shoulder. She didn't protest. "My quarters," he said. Sure, it would be risky to take her back to the Overwatch base, but he knew his living space, and he knew that it was safe. He knew that he wouldn't be disturbed, and he knew what kind of environment he wanted to breed in. Nowhere else was safe enough or familiar enough to deem as a nest—executive decision made.

With Widowmaker quiet over his shoulder, his hand resting on the cleft between her ass and thigh, Jack navigated the back alleys and hidden trails of the city. He had traversed a similar path before, after being spotted by a mass of criminals a few years ago. It was the quickest way to reach base without being seen. Even better, he would be nearer to his own private quarters, coming in around the back. It was unlikely that he would be seen at all, nor detected by the other alphas, betas, and omegas within the organization who might be able to sniff out his very characteristic pheromones.

No, this would be fast, quick, efficient. He needed to be inside her _soon_.

Despite Jack's confidence that he wouldn't be seen, as he grew nearer and nearer to the base, a sliver of doubt poked at him from the back of his brain. This wasn't just any woman, any mate. This was _Widowmaker_. She was dangerous, brainwashed, criminal, heartless—the list could go on. The more rational part of Jack's mind insisted that she would make a horrible mother. The primal instinct that he had learned so well to follow, however, argued otherwise. The mental battle raged on, peaking the moment that he stepped foot within Overwatch's territory. He was torn between propelling himself even more quickly along the corridors to his quarters so that he could force her down and thrust himself inside her and dropping her, here and now, where he and his teammates could apprehend her when she was at her most submissive.

_Being a mother will be good for her,_ he told himself. _Remember, she needs to be bred as much as you need to breed her._

It was true. Talon could brainwash her all they wanted. They could corrupt her, deprave her of her humanity, but they couldn't take away the fact that she was born an omega. She was born with a singular purpose—to continue their race, to bear children, to raise them. Her body would demand it of her until she reached a certain age, and if she hadn't birthed a child by then, her instincts and her useless cycle would plague her for the remainder of her life.

Jack wouldn't let that happen.

Any lingering doubts he still harbored were rendered irrelevant when he noticed that, the longer they were within Overwatch’s territory, the more uncomfortable Amélie grew in his grip. Of course, she hated being there just as much as he had hated to bring her, and yet she spoke not a word to him. If anything, _that_ was the truest display of complete and absolute submission. Her body heated and her breaths quickened as she was carried deeper within her enemy’s base, but her silence communicated her knowledge that Jack knew best.

Even if he tried, Jack couldn’t have put into words just how much that pleased him.

He kicked the door shut behind him and tossed Amélie onto his bed. He was too impatient to demand that she take off her own clothes. While that would certainly be the sexiest fucking thing he had ever seen, now wasn't the time. He tore at her, fast, confident, and furious, and didn't stop until her entire body was bared before him. Without her clothes, Jack could see that she was even more perfect than he could have possibly imagined.

"Hot," he breathed. "Hot. It needs to be hot. And wet." Recognition of the best plan came quickly, and he didn't bother sharing it with Amélie before lifting her off the bed and all but tossing her into the shower once he had yanked the curtains back. He didn't worry about her landing roughly on the tile. She was tough. She could handle it. He wouldn't have chosen a fragile woman to be his mate.

As she straightened herself in the shower so that she was sitting on her knees, Amélie actually giggled. "Oh, _Jack_ , you are much more desperate than I had imagined you would be." Her brows furrowed momentarily, as if her own words had surprised her, and Jack tilted his head with a wicked smile on his face.

"Oh, so you've thought about this before, have you?" That smirk still ever-present, he tilted his head back and brushed honey chestnut bangs from his forehead. (They were, of course, tinged with streaks of silver, but his maturity as an alpha would only make him a more attractive mate for Widowmaker. Not once did he doubt himself, in his older age.)

Amélie scoffed. "You think I have not encountered you during one of your ruts before? You _stink_ ," she said.

"Only because you weren't panting like a bitch in heat." Of course, as an omega, Amélie would be oversensitive to Jack's scent, especially during the peak of his cycle. However, it would seem they had never met when both of their peaks aligned. "I must have smelled so horrible," he teased in a lilting, mocking voice.

She hesitated, like she definitely didn't want to admit what she was thinking. "Yes, you did. But now it is not so bad."

Jack didn't hide his laughter. It bellowed out of him in full force while he bent down to grab onto her disheveled ponytail and guide her onto her knees. "Not so bad, huh?"

She hissed through her teeth, but the sound ended in a little moan that might as well have been a plea for him to fuck her. "It is good. It is—" she gasped again when he pulled her hair and grabbed her by the scruff of the neck so that he could position her just the way he wanted her. "It is perfect. It is delicious. L-let me carry your child." All at once, she all but _disintegrated_ into his touch, and Jack absolutely ate it up.

"Now _that's_ more fucking like it, you little slut." He made sure that his tone was gentle enough to suggest only the kindest and most desperate of intentions. Judging by the way she bowed her head in complete submission, she didn't misunderstand.

Good.

"Stay," he commanded her. He reached forward to twist the knobs on the shower's wall and absolutely _relished_ the way that her body tensed beneath the sudden cold stream of water. With one arm, he reached in and slipped the string from her hair so that it fell around her back and shoulders to join the chilly rivers running down her back.

As her skin adjusted to the chill and the water eventually grew warmer, he watched her relax, almost sink into the floor while the steam rose around her. It was quite a sight, really, to watch the most powerful woman he knew collapse so willingly beneath the streams of water that pelted her skin. Her hair soaked up the water so that it fell, weighted, around her neck and shoulders and shielded her face from view.

Jack didn't want that. He wanted to _see_ her—every inch of her. He reached into the shower and pushed her hair out of her eyes, tucked a few thick strands behind her ear and pushed the rest over her shoulder. "I want to see the sweet lips that are going to be sucking my cock," he said.

In return, Amélie gnashed her teeth at him and offered a devious little grin. So, she wanted to show herself to him, too. Oh, _fuck_ , was he ever a lucky man today. Before he removed his arm from the shower, he turned the hot water knob all the way to one side. Yes, it was getting warm, but he wanted the air to be so steamy and wet and slick with heat that he couldn't distinguish the sweat dripping down his cheek, mid-fuck, from the shower water and the steam condensing on his skin.

With each passing moment that the water's temperature rose, he watched her body shift and adjust, every muscle in her back quivering. Her back remained as straight as a board while she sat perched on her hands and knees, but with great delight, Jack could tell that she was having a difficult time keeping herself poised. As the steam thickened and Jack felt the first trickle of sweat dribble down his forehead, he watched her back sag beneath water that must have been scalding. Her fingers bent and clawed into the tile, and she hissed and groaned while her head hung between her arms.

He knew that she was fine. The pain was only temporary. Soon, she would grow used to the heat, and with every degree that her body's temperature rose, she would become more and more fertile for him. By the time he shot himself into her— _god_ , it would be perfect.

Jack didn't take his eyes off of her when he began to disrobe himself. The cape came first, falling and bunching onto the floor around his ankles, followed promptly by the belt with a massive buckle that clanged against the tile. He smirked when the swift, high-pitched keen of his zipper actually had Amélie’s entire body lurch with the need to see her alpha naked. What a fucking relief. His cock had been tenting his pants for over an hour now, but the throbbing and the tightness was beginning to grow unbearable. He gladly peeled the layers of his suit away from his skin, shedding something neat, clean, and patriotic to bare his hard-earned scars instead. They decorated a body damaged and beaten and withholding the rewards that came with years of battle.

"It is about time that you took that horrid thing off," Amélie said.

He heard her, even through the steady splatter of water droplets against the tile, but he didn't speak. He knew that she was only upholding a certain sense of control in order to turn him on. Whatever he was wearing—or _had been_ wearing—was entirely a moot point. They would breed naked, not with clothes. It wasn't the clothing that had made them attractive to one another. It was _much_ better, this way.

The greatest relief came when Jack slid the waistband of his pants down, beyond his hips, around his ass, and midway down his thighs. All at once, his impatient cock sprung free. Just as impatient, he moaned.

" _Damn_ , it feels good to have that out in the open," he chuckled. If Amélie wasn't already watching, he fully expected her to turn and look. He couldn't wait to see the lust that would flare in her eyes the first time that she saw his thick cock, dark with arousal.

Her reaction didn't disappoint him. He watched carefully as her tongue darted over her lips and water poured down her face. A few strands of hair obscured her vision, but not enough for her to miss out on the best thing to ever happen to her.

"You fucking like it, don't you?" Jack wrapped one hand lazily around his shaft. "You fucking _love_ this, huh? You like knowing that there's going to be a huge dick inside you, any minute now? You like knowing that I'm going to fuck your pussy so hard you won't be able to walk for days?"

Jack paused in pleasuring himself for just long enough to stoop down and take Amélie's chin roughly between his thumb and fingers. "You know you're lot leaving here until my child is inside you," he said. His voice was so low and gruff and menacing that it, by itself, may as well have been a growl. But that wasn't enough. He finished off his declaration with a snarl that accompanied the mischievous narrowing of his eyes. "You don't mind."

She didn't.

He stood again and resumed his work of fisting his own cock. The throbbing heat against his palm and the viscous fluid beading at the tip told him that he was almost ready, but he felt the need to assert himself over her a little more before claiming her body once and for all. Was it entirely necessary? No, of course not. He could breed her now, and probably accomplish the same goal after some time. But the longer he waited for her body to heat and the more time he allowed her pussy to lubricate itself and pour out its juices for him, the more likely they would be to bear a child. He only intended to fuck her once, at least for _this_ purpose. Jack was no longer a man of patience. He didn't have it in him.

Yes, he needed to wait for her body to be as ready as it could be, but even more, he needed her sweet mouth around him in the interim.

Jack allowed himself to indulge, finally stepping all the way into the shower with her and grabbing her by the chin until he had pulled her up from a kneeling position onto her knees. "Suck, sweetheart." He manipulated his hips so that his member rested along her chin before popping up to land against the tip of her nose. "Just think," he said. "That's going to be in your tight pussy, soon, loosening you up and making you so wet for me.”

She took the tip into her mouth without further prompting. Her lips worked furiously around it while she lapped up the precome already leaking from his slit. He watched her, absolutely enraptured whenever he saw her throat bob to swallow some of him. His skin prickled pleasantly at the thought of her swallowing _all_ of him down. He liked knowing that there was a bit of him inside her, because it served as a tantalizing preview of what was to come. He looked forward to when he could shoot his load into her pussy, fill her womb with his come. Jack grinned upon remembering just how huge his loads were when he was in a rut. He could only imagine how good the pearly white would look against her icy blue thighs as the excess leaked out of her and was washed down the drain.

"God _damn_ , I'm going to come inside you. I'm going to pump you full of come until you can't hold it anymore." Hearing the filth of the words from his own mouth made his cock twitch in her mouth, hitting the back of her throat. " _Fuck_ , you feel good. Your mouth is so fucking good. Holy _shit_."

An inch at a time, she took him in, deeper and deeper until her nose was pressed against his abdomen and she was struggling to keep her throat open to accommodate his length. She swallowed around him, and Jack groaned. He meant for words to come out of his mouth, but he could hardly tell what he was saying anymore, and his lips formed uselessly around what was more sound than actual word.

At this rate, his knot was going to swell before he was even inside her, and that wouldn't do. The water was nearly scalding hot now—honestly, Jack hadn't paid much attention to the pins and needles of burning that pricked along his skin. There were so many other things to focus on that it seemed silly to worry about being in pain, of all things.

"C-can't—stop. Get your ass up. Show me your fucking pussy." Jack pushed his palm against Amélie's forehead until she had released his cock entirely from her mouth. "That's right." His heart beat so hard and fast that he could feel it in his throat, and Jesus Christ was it hot the way she lowered her torso to the floor of the shower and spread her thighs a little, then—dear _god_ —reached beneath herself to pry at her own pussy with her fingers.

"Aching, huh?" It was easy to read what she needed, maybe because Jack already _knew_ what she needed. He could tell by the way that her face scrunched up in need and desire and arousal that her pussy had never needed to be filled more in her life than it needed to be filled right now. Luckily, he was just the man for that. He lowered himself to his knees behind her, then leaned back against the wall of the shower to get a good look at what he had to work with. Her long fingers massaged her aching hole, and she slid a couple of fingertips inside to satiate herself while she waited.

"That's fucking filthy, princess. Didn't think I'd get a private show back here."

Amélie was wordless. Nothing but keening whimpers and something that mimicked a quiet howl made it out of her throat—she was too desperate to speak, too caught up in her heat and the need to prepare her body for him to knot.

When she opened herself up for him, Jack let out a low whistle at the glistening strands of juicy lubricant that coated her insides and threatened to drip out of her. "You're fucking soaked for me. Look how easily I'm going to slide in." He punctuated his sentence by slipping one of his thick fingers inside of her, all the way to the third knuckle, and Amélie absolutely _howled_.

"That's right. That's right. It's that good, and this is only one finger. You're going to love my cock." He lowered himself, draping his larger body over her back. Then, in a quieter voice, "You'll love my knot even more."

He kept one finger inside her while he filled his other hand with one of her breasts and swallowed up every bit of her scent that he could manage to find. It was the strongest around her neck and in the crevices of her body. That's where the other alphas would have fixated, but not anymore. Jack scented her, rough and greedy, dragging his own neck and his face alongside her shoulders, behind her ear, down her sides, against her thighs—everywhere she smelled strongly of her own, distinctive scent. He would dull her own scent and mix it with his. The idea of claiming her this way was almost as enticing as filling her with his cock. This was only the beginning, but already Jack was panting so hard that he might as well have run a marathon. He didn't treat her gently, anymore, but fought with her instead and pushed her away when she attempted to return the favor and mark him, as well.

"I'm not fucking done with you, yet," he growled. Almost, just almost, he was surprised by the feral nature of his own voice. In that moment, Jack was nearly more animal than human. Never in his life had he felt so alive.

He finished scenting her less because he was satisfied that she smelled enough like him and more so because he absolutely couldn't wait any longer to fill her quivering pussy. For only a few moments, he allowed her to mark her own territory, to slide her neck along the parts of him that didn't smell enough like _both_ of them. She purred and mewled into his skin, and with each passing second, Jack only felt more of her body's lubricant coat his fingers. She was so hot now, loosened and opened and relaxed for him, that he couldn't control himself any longer.

All at once, he grabbed her by the scruff of her neck and forced her down onto her hands and knees.

"Fuck me," she breathed. "Oh, _mon dieu_ , _fuck_ me."

"With pleasure," Jack snarled. He grabbed her by the hips and was reminded again of just how wide they were, how he could barely wrap his massive hands around them. His fingers dug deep into her skin, hard enough to leave little nailmarks in her delicate flesh.

He lined himself up with her pussy and guided himself in. While it would have been easy to force himself inside her with one quick thrust (and as tempting as it was to do just that), Jack made sure that some semblance of control remained. Yes, he needed to breed her, but he wanted to enjoy this as well. He didn't wish to separate himself entirely from his more human side, the part of him that adored sex just for the sensation and for the joy of the fuck. Hell, he had _Amélie Lacroix_ in his damned shower, so he was going to let himself enjoy this.

When he realized exactly how responsive she was going to be, Jack was glad he had let himself slow down.

Even with just the blunt tip pushed within her, she was already whining and begging him for more, her voice rising to a pitch that he didn't know she could reach.

"Please," she whimpered. "Oh, _please_. _Yes_ , fill me up. Just like that— _oh_ —just like that. More, more, _more_!"

"Well aren't you a fucking delight?" He didn’t grant her what she wanted, not right away. Instead, he rocked his hips in tiny, undulating motions, just so that he could feel the rim of her pussy massage his sensitive head. He watched, pupils dilated and eyes hungry, as the swell of his glans popped in and out of her, each time sending a little thrill of sensation up his shaft and towards the base. He felt the warm, tight beginnings of his knot swelling beneath the surface. That was the only thing that propelled him forwards. If not for his need to be locked inside her, he could have reveled for hours in these pulses of heat that danced around the head of his cock.

After a few more moments of teasing himself, pushing himself bit by bit inside her and thoroughly enjoying the sight of his cock disappearing further into his mate, he yanked Amélie back by her broad hips with enough force to have her ass flush against his stomach. The tones of their skin looked good so close together, Jack thought. Icy blue pushed against peach that was ruddy with arousal was a combination all his, and his alone. With every balls-deep thrust, the sight of him inside of her burned itself into his mind in a way that made every other omega’s image pale in comparison.

The sounds that echoed in the shower would have horrified anyone who wasn't an alpha or an omega. The shrillness and the volume of their cries as Jack begun thrusting mercilessly in and out of her were akin to the noises that wild cats might make when mating. There was no effort to be conventionally "sexy," as normal men and women might be. There was only the need to display dominance, to submit, to end this encounter with her womb full of his seed.

Simply put, they might as well have been animals.

“You look good,” Jack said. “You look like you’re _mine_.” His panted words might have been lost within the hissing stream of water from the showerhead, but he knew that Amélie’s ears would hear anything he said right now.

As expected, she hummed in response, a sound low enough that it might have been a moan when he pushed against a sensitive place, deep inside her.

Jack continued his praises. “You’re goddamn perfect.”

Then, when his spine tingled because her entire core quivered around him, “A goddamn perfect little _slut_.” It was a fitting addition, especially given that the nickname itself had her body practically melting onto the tiled floor and her pussy clenching around him.

“Again,” Amélie begged.

Jack pursed his lips, forcing back a lecherous grin, and lifted an eyebrow. “Slut?”

In response, she began to rock her body backwards against his, meeting every one of his thrusts in time and forcing him even deeper inside her. She pushed back against him, groaning and howling when he landed so deeply within her that he feared her body might not be able to hold anymore of him.

It wasn’t long before Jack could feel the knot swelling at the base of his cock, and soon, it was more and more difficult to slip in and out of her. On top of that, the pressure in his body was building and building while he neared the tip of his climax—just the thought of coming inside her brought him closer to the edge.

In his final moments before releasing himself inside her, Jack craved the sensation that came with his shaft sliding along her wet, hot core, but his knot kept him locked inside her and brought little whimpers to bubble at her lips whenever he attempted to pull too far out of her.

“Oh, _fuck_ ,” she hissed, again and again until her words were no longer words and only sounds that encouraged Jack to do whatever it was that he was doing both faster and harder. A sob cracked in Amélie’s throat when she worked up the courage to release a _command_ , of all things. “Put your baby inside of me, Jack.” Her voice was hoarse, weakened with the force of her near-constant howls since the moment she had pried herself open with her fingers and he had pushed his own digits inside her.

Jack thought he replied to her. He thought that he said something along the lines of, “Oh, don’t worry, you’re not leaving until you’re pregnant,” but whatever he actually said was probably much less eloquent. He didn’t even know anymore what he tried to say or what he even _wanted_ to say—all he knew was that he was close, close, _close_ and that he needed to come inside her. His vision went white, then black, some combination of the two—he didn’t even know what colors or shades were anymore, because the heat of his rut was so severe that all he could do was growl, high-pitched, into his mate’s ear and push inside her with the short little bursts his knot would allow.

When he reached his orgasm, it was nothing like he had ever experienced before. Sure, Jack had fucked girls. Sure, he had jerked off, especially during his ruts, but no release had ever felt so full of pure, unadulterated, searing hot pleasure as this one. It was like his body knew that he had to make this one count—he was sure that he had never come so hard in his life. He felt one string of spunk leave him, thick and plentiful, then another, and another, and while his cock and knot were plugging Amélie’s pussy, he could only imagine how his spunk would be gushing from her had he been able to pull out any farther.

Low moans and groans rumbled in her throat and shook her body around him.

“D-do you feel it, baby?” His voice was rough with the remnants of his orgasm. “You feel my fucking come sloshing inside you?”

Jack found himself grateful for his knot, then, if only because it would seal everything inside her so tightly that she was _sure_ to bear a child. In her heat, with so much come within her, she couldn’t escape her newest role as the mother of his offspring.

He rode the final waves of his afterglow with more homely images flashing in sequence behind his eyes. In a few months, her body would begin to change. He would care for her, then, and rest his hand on her belly while waiting for the miniscule pressure that indicated some sort of movement from _his own baby_.

Yes, yes, he had done it. The longer he lay there, the more it became clear. Amélie’s silence only solidified the realization that he had done it.

By the time his knot had shrunk enough for him to slide out of her, the water had begun to go cold. It didn't matter now, though, how warm or cold Amélie was. The deed was done, and she was pregnant with Jack's child. No, of course there was no way to tell for sure, but there was something about being an alpha that instructed Jack when it was time to stop mating, and he had never _ever_ felt so damn satisfied. That had to mean something.

Still, there was a slight aching in Jack’s groin that begged him to repeat the process, to fuck her into oblivion for as long as he could stand it. It wasn’t as if he was physically incapable—thanks to the serum, he had more than enough stamina to knot her again, maybe two or three more times in the same evening. With slow, rhythmic breaths, he calmed himself and stifled his body’s pleas. There was no reason to continue, not when he knew for sure that his goal had already been accomplished in a single try.

He held her, his thick arms wrapped around her, just beneath her breasts, and reveled in how thickly his scent lingered on her neck. Yes, she was his, all his, and he had accomplished what he had set out to do.

"Do you feel it, darling?" he muttered into her ear.

He didn't need to explain himself, but he wanted to allow her the time to know exactly how she should answer. For some moments, there was no sound but the constant patter of the cooling water against the tile around them, their heavy breaths muffled within. She shifted a little around him, and his cock slid out of her at last.

Amélie took a deep breath in before she exhaled—Jack could feel the rise and fall of her chest.

" _Oui_ ," she finally said. "I feel him."

Jack scoffed. It took everything he had to release his grip and force himself to pull away, but goosebumps were rising on his cold skin, and his instincts pushed him to carry her to a more comfortable place. At first, he thought it impossible to know the sex of the child so early, but he supposed it was just as probable for a mother to know her baby’s sex as it was for him to know that he had succeeded in his attempt to breed her. By the time he had bent at the knees and lifted her up, one arm around her shoulders and the other beneath her knees, he had decided to forego the arguing.

"It is your first breeding, _non_?"

He paid little heed to the pools of water left on the floor, dripping from her hair and gathering in puddles. The air outside the bathroom was entirely different—cool and dry, especially against their damp skin. Only seconds after he had laid her down on his mattress, Jack returned with a towel and lovingly patted her dry. He began with her shoulders, her arms, her stomach, then allowed himself a squeeze of her ample breasts through the towel. While his fixation on her chest was perhaps of a different nature now than it had been while he had pursued her across rooftops, there was no way that Jack could ever bring himself to care little for them.

After some delay, he admitted, "Yes. Worth the wait."

A smile teased at the corners of Amélie's lips while she let him dry her, place another folded towel beneath bundles of her hair, and cover her with the bedsheets. "I was just as desperate, you know," she said. "The others at my base—they were driving me insane. Not a one of them was suitable or worth my time. Even _today_ , they all reeked. I was angry. It is why I was running. I did not want to stop until this heat was gone from me."

"Hell, there's nothing as angry as a fifty-six-year-old alpha without a child," Jack teased.

" _You_ , yes, I could smell you from a mile away. Did you really think that you were being sneaky? A man in a rut cannot surprise me. _No_ man can surprise me."

Jack crawled into the bed with her and tossed the sheets over himself. "Give me time, sweetheart."

They held each other, just as they had in the shower, but now with the knowledge that they had bred. The logistics would be a nightmare, no doubt, but their usually-sharp minds were too hazy with the satisfaction of their success to think ahead to more difficult times. This was what they both had needed. As an alpha and an omega, their entire driving force had demanded this. There was not even a speck of questioning or regret. It was right.

"You will have your time, now, old man." Amélie didn't exactly laugh, but Jack supposed that little titter was the closest that she could come to such a display of joy. "Plenty of time to surprise me, if you can manage to achieve such a thing."

He gave her entire body a squeeze, then buried his face into her neck to drown himself in the way both of their scents mingled into one. She lurched a little when his mustache tickled the sensitive skin behind her ear. "I've already achieved what no other man has. You, Widowmaker, are going to be a _parent_.” Jack chuckled. "I dare any other man to give _that_ a fucking try."

He was, of course, being entirely sarcastic. Never in his life had he felt so possessive and protective of something. His entire future lay with the woman in his arms and the beginnings of their offspring in her womb. There could be nothing else to fill that void if he was somehow to lose them.

"You're _mine_ now, you know."

The smug, terse little reply that immediately came out of Amélie's mouth like a purr was really the last thing that Jack had ever expected.

"I know, Soldier.”

It wasn’t long then, before the pattern of her breaths grew longer and her chest heaved deeply, more rhythmically. To think that Widowmaker had just fallen asleep in his arms would have been shocking on any other occasion, but what was truly incredible was that this would be only the first night of many where he would lay protecting her, the mother of his child.

_Epilogue_

Nine months was a long time. It was long enough to change a man (and his woman, too), and it was certainly long enough for a new addition to the world. Jack could barely remember what his life was like back then, before he had hit his rut in full force and had found his perfect mate. It was odd to think that Amélie hadn't _always_ been in his life.

"I think he is finally asleep, _mon amour_." Her voice was just as sexy as it had been when he first met her, when she had cried out while he filled her in the shower.

_No_ , Jack thought. _Now it’s even sexier._

In whispered tones, he chuckled. "It's about damn time." Their little one was indeed a boy, just as Amélie had predicted only moments after she had been bred. Jack had never questioned her instincts, but it was good to have it confirmed. If he was honest with himself, he would have admitted that he had always wanted a boy. Now, he had one. He may have been nearly sixty years old, but his legacy would live on in the form of this sweet boy who filled his and Amélie’s lives with so much joy.

Jack wondered how much more his life would change in nine more months, and in the nine months after that. Amélie was different now, too—incredibly different, as a matter of fact. While the transition had been slow at first, the longer that she had been pregnant and had adjusted to her new role as a mother, the more human she had become. More than once, while she had lain beside Jack, sound asleep, he had watched her and her swollen belly and wondered if this is what she had been like back _then_.

He didn’t want to think about him, her previous husband. He didn’t want to wonder if Gerard, too, had been an alpha. But he did wonder what she had been like before Talon got to her. Jack knew that he would never have exact answers, but he was pleased enough with this little glimpse into domesticity. As the years continued and as their son grew older, Jack would learn more about her. He already knew so much more than was likely ethical, given his status as a committed soldier of Overwatch.

Still, no matter how docile and mellow she might have become throughout her pregnancy, Amélie was just as feisty as the moment when the two of them had first met. She remained deadly, observant, and precise; but she was no longer cruel. The darkest elements of Amélie's engineered personality had become less apparent over time, until Jack wondered if they were still present at all.

"I suppose he was only hungry again." The words left Amélie's mouth like a whispered song, her voice almost musical simply because she was _happy_. “He fell right back to the land of dreaming, after his little snack.” As she spoke, she covered the breast with which she had fed him, then resumed her tight, two-armed grasp around the baby boy. Her arms formed a little cradle within which he rested and gurgled and slept to his tiny heart’s content.

Jack's chest swelled with pride. "Well, he's always hungry." To think that she was so content because of _him_ , because she had carried and birthed _his_ child. To raise offspring with such a beautiful, intelligent, and dangerous woman was more than Jack had ever imagined he would achieve.

Amélie offered him a pointed look. "He takes after his father."

Sure, Jack fucking adored Amélie's tits, especially now that they had grown even larger throughout the pregnancy, engorged with milk. He would easily admit that he, too, enjoyed sneaking a taste on occasion, mostly because he couldn't keep his mouth away from her round, perky nipples. Of course, she was never at a loss for material with which to tease him, and this was only one of many things.

Contentment washed over her face again, and she heaved a little sigh while absently stroking the few strands of her son's downy hair. "As long as he is resting," she said. "And as long as he always has enough to eat, I do not mind what you do." Her lips pursed, like she was trying to keep herself from smiling.

Jack knew exactly what that meant. "Oh, you love it," he murmured. "You would never tell me to stop tasting you, sweetheart."

He gazed at her with all the adoration he could muster in his old, tired eyes. There were certain things he wanted to say to her, but he questioned the appropriateness of his thoughts. As he still did, every so often, he kept his thoughts to himself and let his mind fixate on all she had done for him. It was all right—he knew that Amélie appreciated his silence. She was not a loud person herself. Her quiet yet powerful presence was just the perfect demeanor for a mother, Jack thought. She was always quiet enough to calm the child, but still firm enough to instruct him.

Jack never ceased to be amazed at just how much she impressed him.

“Do you think you can manage a few more months in here?” he asked. Not a hint of sarcasm tinged his voice, only genuine concern for her and his son’s wellbeing. “I know it’s cramped, but—“

“No ‘buts.’” There was that firmness Jack had just been mentally praising. While he had done his best to make his private quarters more comfortable for her, she had only limited space and privileges within Overwatch’s base.

“I still wonder what will happen when you’re well enough to—“

Amélie pushed her finger against Jack’s lips and teased at his mustache with the tip of her well-manicured finger. “No. I will think about that when it is time to think about it. Now,” she said, looking down with adoring eyes at her and Jack’s child, “Is not the time.”

An assassin, a criminal, an enemy—Widowmaker was no doubt all of those things. But still, Jack knew that there was no denying the truth. His chest swelled with pride and joy.

“I am a mother, first.”


End file.
